


Burns

by Eyrdamun



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Post-True Route, Power bottom protag, Supposed to be PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 22:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16689796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyrdamun/pseuds/Eyrdamun
Summary: Akechi Goro blames it all on the tale written in his scars. He buries his desires in the sea.





	Burns

**Author's Note:**

> For Akechi's scars, since I never describe them in detail:  
> https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/484848400714694656/514636431499722762/unknown.png  
> https://twitter.com/marudyne

Undeniably, he wants.

He wants only things he is unworthy of.

He wants to be close, closer still. He wants to feel Ren's breath- stuttery, shallow, deep- fanning across his skin. He wants Ren to cry for him, against him just as much as he wants to feel the laughter bubbling from deep within him. He wants close contact, flesh meeting flesh, he wants the double edge blade that is to be nude and feel Ren’s nudity against him. He wants the power filled vulnerability, the vulnerable strength.

Think of the Devil, and he'll send you a text.

Ren complains about Morgana eating all the salmon, the cat falling prey to his hubris as its stomach aches.

Goro chuckles and plays with the sleeve hiding rough hide.

He wants, as he always has and will, to be wanted. But that dream sank in a ship, his upper body right side itches.

  _> Did the doc give you the new cream?_

She did. It itches harder.

_> Cool, I'll do your back next time we meet._

_> Wait. When are you supposed to apply it? Need me to come over?_

Goro makes a conscious effort. With his left thumb, he clicks on three digital keys.

_> No. _

Lying through his teeth, he reassures Ren that he is fine and he can wait. He makes a note to conveniently forget, or misplace, the salve next time he visits him.

It’s easier that way.

Even if Ren always reads the fine print in his actions. Even if Ren's eyes will downturn and water faintly.

It's easier to live with than his hands and eyes touching burn scars again. He was once scornful and petty, now he wants to save the other from a ghastly sight. It doesn’t matter that Ren has already seen them, Goro wants the skin to rot into a memory of something more palatable than reality. He wants to live a starved beast. He wants to deprive himself of Ren's touch, of the soft warm and blurred expression that he rightfully doesn't deserve.

Goro wants conflicting things. He craves to be remembered with a wisp of his past looks, he hungers for Ren’s companionship.

His right side itches still and he scratches it through the fabric. He can almost feel the ghost of Ren's hand gently prying it away, a memory filled with unwarranted care. Faintly, an echo from seas apart, he hears him.

“Careful.”

Goro scratches harder. The scars will camouflage it.

There was a time, way back then, Ren slipped and had told him he had a pleasant face.

 

Ren knows him too well. He's over the next day, take out and snacks in one hand and what seems to be bad horror flicks in the other. He can only tell so much from the cover, they appear to be in mint condition.

“I raided Haru's horror cabinet.”

Goro is unimpressed. “Isn't it filled with gore and torture?”

“Try not to pop a boner on me when we watch them.” Ren walks in, his side almost touching Goro's right. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

Goro doubts. He steps back nonetheless, his visitor smile glints in blue. It's a trick of the light.

Behind closed doors locked, they sit in the tiny living room. There's thinly veiled disgust on Goro’s face as he undresses to dress scar tissue too rough and tough to deserve it. He avoids his reflection.

There’s a thinly veiled _something_ in Ren's eyes, a glint ever present since the first time he saw the condition he was in and only present when his scars stare back. But there hadn't been any pity.

Its absence makes it harder.

He could at least nurture hatred with it, he could plant something to combat the yearning that's taken root in his intestines.

“Shouldn't you let it breathe?”

“It's just skin.”

“Exactly.”

Ren swipes the container from his hands with practiced ease. And just as easily, a strong stem of longing pierces his diaphragm. The couch cushions barely dip under Ren's weight as he sits himself behind him.

Breathing is a difficult task. He doesn't want this, Ren's hands deserve the world.

“I knew it. Your back looks like shit,” Ren sighs behind him. It's loud and Goro knows he doesn't feel it because of fried scarred nerves on his back. “I told you to call me if you needed help.”

His back doesn't look much different from his side, he thinks. They are both just as-

“The skin here is so flakey… Goro, don't be too proud to ask for help.”

“Hypocrite.”

Ren snorts. “That's different. I want to do this.”

Goro bites his tongue, suffocates on what he wants- Ren's laugh, his tears, his pain, his comfort, his breath. A downward spiral that is best to ignore the siren call, even if it sings to him with Ren's voice. Goro’s eyes fall to the films Ren brought with him in an attempt to not center his world on the touch behind him. It's ineffective, their boxes are bland, and Ren’s fingers are gentle but firm.

Goro is stubborn. Ren's fingers rend him inside out with longing- a florist’s touch.

“All of these look bad.”

Ren sings a questioning hum, lulling him to fall back. It lasts a beat and then switches to acknowledgement. His words flaunt his skill with plants, they turn into nutrients seeping into the ground of his guts. “You aren't ready to deal with me freaking out.”

What he wants, the selfish itch on his right, is under the lost tranquil waves that exists solely in a disgraced man's head. Something unachievable, not part of this world. Ren applies the cream, he takes his time and it burns. It's sunlight for green in his lungs.

Goro itches to protect Ren's gaze from himself. He stares at the black leather of his gloves lying on the ground at his feet.

Before, his gloves had been a comfort, not a necessity. He hides every inch of skin he can under a fabric of symmetry.

Ren's hand mounts to his shoulder, descends down his bicep as he mumbles about leaving the rest to him.

 

The scantily clad actress screams, but the chainsaw roars louder. Ren chokes on his surprise.

“Why is everyone in this just blood balloons?” He is laughing and hugs the popcorn bowl.

“Need I remind you you chose this.”

“Oh, trust me. I know.”

The woman throws wine at the ghost. It begins to melt in viscera, and Goro grins. The muscles on the left side of his face moving and twisting faster. His good mood soldiers through the reminder.

“Is that actual pork chop?”

Besides him, Ren coughs out popcorn in the middle of his guffawing. “No way! Please tell me it was rotten and that's why they used it- where's the remote, I have to know.”

Ren paused, and a disfigured face stares back at him in the time it takes him to rewind.

“Oh my God, there are sausages too- I need to show this to the group chat.”

 

He thinks of Ren, bruised and bloodied because of him. Thinks about how that should even out the playing field and how it doesn't work at all. Yearning tears him from inside asunder, Ren's healthy face and a constellation of needle thin stars greet him behind his eyelids. He breathes easier but not easy.

He wonders how Ren would look at him, if he had come out physically unscathed.

He prays for want, for more deserving warmth. He imagines distance he can't cross and how much easier it would be to have the face that he built his career on. How it could maybe lure Ren to him without resorting to contact or words.

He wishes for an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth and a heart for a heart.

And he wishes for more. Greed runs in his veins, ever present since he was nothing more than a seed. He wishes for a still smoother reflection, to have his body back, unscathed, inoffensive to the eyes, attractive to Ren's-

He stops daydreaming and gets back to work.

Still, he can't quite silence the thought tending to his longing, can't quiet down the feeling of how much more deserving he would be of Ren without the scars.

Not much more, but he’ll take an inch and run the mile.

 

Ren comes over again, two days later with a plant biology documentary and a grocery bag. Goro greets him at the door with arms crossed and stares.

“Either you got ditched or Morgana has usurped you as the apartment owner.”

Ren whacks him lightly on the forehead with the documentary. “Or maybe, the container had a handwritten note about when to apply the cream and I read it.”

Goro raises his lone well sculpted eyebrow.

“Also, it was Futaba.”

With the truth spoken, he lets him in to torture him once more. He doesn’t have a choice. Or rather, doesn’t want to face the song.

“How was your day?” Goro plays domestic regardless of what his looks imply.

“Work was work, but everyone blew up my phone with memes and dumb videos.” Ren beelines to the couch and pats the cushion besides him. He smiles as he adds, “It was pretty good. Yours?”

Goro shrugs. It was nothing special. “As you said, work was work.”

“C'mon, Hero,” Ren teases him with all he wants- pet names, touches and attention all at once. “The road to be a defence attorney is long and hard and filled with weird stuff- I have an in, remember?”

Goro sits on his assigned spot. His steps hesitant while Ren waits for him to bare himself. And he does, in only one way.

“It's looking a bit better,” Ren tries to soothe him. “Hey, what’s…”

The question dies, Ren's fingers brush more rough scarred tissue. Tender, Goro can tell he touches the scratches on his side, things that shouldn't be, failures that don't deserve the intimacy of his kindness.

Flaws camouflaged between flaws that Ren shouldn’t see are graced by his fingertips.

Quiet, he continues applying the cream. He's quick about it, as he usually is when Goro scratches too hard and Ren drowns with the need to ask. He closes the lid and places it on the small table without a sound, a sense of measured urgency behind each motion.

Ren kills the silence. “Why do you keep doing that.”

Goro throws on his discarded shirt, puts his gloves back on. In the comfortable embrace of his second, presentable, skin, he obtains the courage to face Ren.

Their eyes meet, dark clouds in a red sea's horizon. His insides twist with a breeze and the swaying of leaves.

“It itches.”

“Goro…”

Goro wants to shed his skin. Scratch it off with blunt nails until he finds something that's how it's supposed to be. Or until he finds scales- anything other than this. His side itches to the point it burns.

He finds his hands in Ren's grip. It's snug.

“Stop. What's this about?”

“Don't think too deeply about it. Scabs itch.”

Ren pulls him back on the couch and to his side, maneuvers his head to lie on Goro's shoulder as his fingers squeeze their hold. “Goro. I won't force you to talk, but at least talk with Tae.”

Ren's head moves with his scoff. “She's a doctor, not a-”

He shuts up, ignores the way Ren looks at him, knowing.

“She has contacts.”

“Do you use them?”

Silence awaits him. Nothing is an answer in and of itself. Ren toys with the documentary box, weight pretending to press down on Goro. But it's the yearning for the close, far, proximity births into flora in his intestines that keeps Goro in place.

Ren breathes in deep.

The angle is all wrong, Goro doesn't feel it against his skin. It crawls.

“You don't have to pretend I look normal.”

Ren raises his head with a confused frown.

“I'm saying, it's fine if you find it gross, so don't force yourself.”

His face clears into surprise, waters down to melancholic and muddles into blank.

“Is that what you think?”

“I still have a perfectly healthy eye, Ren.”

“Yeah?” The word is exhaled, breathy in its disagreement. “Well, I have two of them and I think you need to go to the optometrist. And a therapist.”

A hypocrite, Ren traps his face in both his hands. Palms feeling the dichotomy of the flesh and it feeling back. Warring sensations register in Goro’s brain.

“You know, it's fucked up, but they comfort me.”

Goro's eye trails down his jaw and down his neck, landing on a mess of dots by his doing and not his hand. “Wish I could say the same.”

“Ok, these are two different things.” Ren snorts, body briefly curling into itself. “But maybe you'll eventually see things my way.”

Goro closes his eye. “No, thank you.”

“You never know.” Ren smiles still, brighter. Closer, his breath fans scar tissue and flawless skin.

Goro doesn't breech the distance, flowers bloom from his empty socket and erode melted skin. They reflect on his lone eye and-

“Stop looking at me.”

Ren does as told, he closes his eyes and swoops in for a kiss.

Goro’s eye widens, hungry but unable to register the sight as reality. His insides are a forest, and a storm the colour of Ren's eyes brews.

“Did I misread the situation…?” Ren confusion reverberates on his lips as he parts, leaving a different type of blaze on his skin. His lips are scarred in the most delicious of ways. It’s unfair, he is certain taste has been ruined for him.

“Yes,” Goro breathes in deep, but his body doesn't register the oxygen. It only latches onto Ren's scent and how it shouldn’t be this way.

“Oh.” Ren backs an inch away. He pauses, and then tries to extract himself. “Oh, shit.”

Goro's left hand pounces, a snake biting Ren's wrist with a vice grip.

“What exactly is wrong with you?” He hisses, he is blazing. Ren is still too close. “Shouldn't you want better?”

“Wha-”

“Take off your rose tinted glasses and _look at me._ ”

Ren shoves him with his free hand. Its contact is electric, so Goro holds it down too. “You idio- you think I don't?” The grip of his wounded arm is less effective and Ren's hand slips away.

“Well, you certainly blind yourself to some things.”

“Is this still about the scars or what?” Ren huffs and tries to free his other hand too. “I've seen you shirtless! I've touched them-” Ren cuts himself off, struggling for a balance between honesty and presenting his weakness. Goro watches the struggle and how he tiredly lies his head on Goro's shirt. “I'm serious. They comfort me.”

Ren's free hand sneaks to his right arm and under his sleeve. It searches the edge of leather and finds more hide. Goro is only fast enough to grab his wrist again, but the fingers’ caress persist.

“You don't want to touch that.”

“I do.”

“You deserve better.”

“Stop that.” Ren searches for his eye, drowns him in the storm brewing under his, under his skin. A hurricane is blowing the flora in his stomach. But he is thunder as much as everything else, and the flames still roar. “Look, do you- do you want me too? Because if not… That's. That’s fine. Just tell me the truth.”

Nothing is an answer in and of itself. Ren looks at his feet as he pulls away. The blunt of his own rejection tastes bitter, leaves crushed between the molars of his teeth to let out toxins into his system. The carbon emission from his own want don’t help cure him of the poison he bit out of his own tongue.

Martyrdom never suited him like it does Ren.

“Alright,” Ren's voice is an ocean away. “Ok.”

He stands up, shoulders hunched. Goro recognizes the look of retreat, the visceral need to escape. He can't see his face, he doesn’t know if he wants to.

“You can still stay. I, I wouldn't deny myself of that.”

“Deny yourself…? Nevermind, it’s fine.” Laughter and crying sound so similar when one can't see. Causes and effects are always worse when unknown. “I patched you up and made things awkward.”

“It's really ok.” It falls onto deaf ears.

“Oh yeah, I only bought ingredients, so you should probably start cooking soon. I was thinking of-” Ren finds his phone, his bag, forgets the film in his haste. “It's getting late. See ya next time.”

The door shuts behind Ren, Goro is still rooted in his spot minutes later.

_ >I don't understand you. _

_ >They do matter, they're disgusting. _

_ >You deserve what you want, but you deserve better too. _

 

_ >You forgot your movie. _

He shuts off his phone and goes for a nap.

 

The buzzing of his doorbell is infernal. An angry screeching that announces either visitors or his landlord. He hopes it his landlord asking for an advanced payment right now.

It isn't. Ren stands at his door, winded and clutching his phone. Goro stares back, wanting to flee and touch all at once. He compromises, he leans against the doorsill.

“I tried texting you, but you didn’t pick up.” Ren hunches his shoulders up, a blatant mockery of his usual nonchalance. “Coming here felt like a good idea…?”

Goro searches for anything to distract his eye from Ren’s face. Anything, because looking directly at Ren is too much.

“I'm getting mixed signals here.”

Ren's shoes are dirty, he scrutinizes the stain.

“If the scars weren't there, what would you want?”

“Ren.”

The aforementioned places his weight on one foot, taps the other on the ground. “Yeah?” It marks an anxious tempo that matches the thrumming in Goro's veins. “Goro, what... Oh.”

Goro could choke on plants and smoke.

“That's,” Ren stutters. The mess in his head visible in the jittering of his hands. For once they are free from his pockets, Goro thinks it an olive branch. He wants to break it and toss it, he wants to treasure it forever. “Can I come in?“

He can and does. The door shuts behind him but Ren makes no effort to travel in deeper. He stands there, a hand on Goro's waist holding him close.

“I genuinely don't care about them.”

“Not even what they stand for?”

“Oh yeah, like your sacrifice to protect me and my friends?”

“And all my shit decisions that lead to it.”

“Well, you did choose badly. A lot.” Ren's a breath away. “I have worse reminders for that.”

Goro has no idea how he hasn't crumbled to his knees yet. Ren pulls him into a hug, and he melts into the touch. “Goro,” Ren crowns him with a kiss. “I really do like you. Dumbassery included and all.”

“Doesn't it feel gross to the touch though?”

Ren scoffs. “I will ride you if that will get you to shut up.”

Goro laughs. “Don’t force yourself.”

Ren shuts him up with another kiss.

“I’ll repeat it until you understand,” Ren exhales against his cheek. Goro had never linked the colour gray to lava until now. “You’re the only one who sees yourself that way.”

A step forward, a mirrored step back.

Ren is shorter than him by an inch, give or take a centimeter or two more, and somehow towers above him. He’s both the lighthouse and the enclosure, Goro the moth and the beast. Guided backwards, Goro is helpless but to follow the path Ren carves for him through presence alone.

He imagines this is what true confidence, what real power, is like.

His knees bump against his couch and he topples down. The couch barely protests, it makes even less of a noise when Ren lowers himself on his lap elegantly.

“You-” Goro has trouble finding his voice as Ren sits on him as if he were a throne. “You aren’t serious.”

Mischievous, Ren smiles. His hand trails up Goro’s right arm, pilgrim over the scars on his neck up to his jaw and finds rest on his cheek. A crescendo of a caress that ends when Ren kisses him, lips full and massaging his own. With muscles that aim to relax and coax, Ren drives him back against the cushions, fingers still holding unto burnt flesh and keeping him there.

Silence is a reply, action is an affirmation.

The contact between them is electrifying, but Ren’s heart has pumped through hell and back and he has more energy than his body can contain. If Goro were a corpse, he’d awaken from his death from this alone.

Ren breaks the kiss only to fill the distance between their lips with the gold of his breath and fits them together once more. Their lips meld together like a seal.

Goro doesn’t know what to do with his hands, he buries the right one in the sofa, the left one wraps around Ren’s hips. It skitters up his back, splays at his nape and pulls him down with him. With all the delicacy he was born with, Goro opens his mouth to Ren’s tongue with a snarl and biting teeth. When they sink on a bottom lip, when Ren moans into his mouth, Goro’s hunger is momentarily satiated.

In his drunken clarity, he pulls away because he doesn’t deserve this.

Ren whines into his mouth before he manages to fully pull away, it tastes finer than wine. He never should be allowed to drink it, this was a lapse of judgement from both their parts.

Flames die down to ashes.

“I’ll admit I’m a bit offended.” Ren plays with the neck of Goro’s shirt, his hand never straying towards the unmarked side of his body. Goro is half listening, his heart beating in his ears and louder than a tree’s fall. “I can’t believe you think you can handle me with one hand.”

“Alright, I give. You can stop,” Goro chuckles a light airy sound. A skill from a past on stage that he will never see again, honed to lower guards and to get his way. A dulcet tone emulating the calm waves of the sea. “There’s no need to go through with that, ah, promise.”

But Ren is still a storm, a deluge threatening to drown all the carefully planted roots chaining him to the ground with a slow, measured, ondulation of the hips. He does it twice, thrice, and the action ripples from his skin, to his core and back out again. Thunder strikes, it causes a fire.

Goro shudders under Ren’s smirk.

“I like to think I’m a man of my word.” Ren accentuates his words with a hard roll of his hips, and presses his lips to the lobe of Goro’s left ear. “And I said I would, so…” He brushes against it, catches it between pearly whites and tugs lightly. “Have I ever given you any reason to doubt me?”

Goro replies with nothing. Ren smiles, and it’s a cacophony in his veins. It drives his heart to beat faster, drum to the beat of the song Ren seems to want to dance to.

And Ren does dance, he moves his hips again and his mouth, his tongue, tangoes with Goro’s own.

Ren steals the air from his lungs, asphyxiates the plants in him with his attention. It’s nearing too much, the movement against his flesh, the way the hands explore both smooth plains and charred lands with twin motions of gentleness. The sensations war inside of him, one dulled and the other too contrastingly clear, that he has to turn his mouth again and gasp for breath.

Undeterred, Ren brings a hand to the back of his hair and pulls his head back. He bares his jaw and throat to his lips, mouths praises against them and paints them wet hot with his breath. They whisper a river down his neck, a gift from rising sea levels from a storm that seeks to take, take and _take._

Ren bites his pulse, claims Goro’s heart for his own and presses more firmly against his hardening intimacy.

“Ren, don’t get too carried away.”

“It’s fine,” Ren breathes into his mouth. His ribs expand, stutter, as a sway of his own hips leave Ren’s spine curving. “I mean, only if you want it too.”

Goro’s right fingers fist into the cushions to hold himself back as Ren moves again and moans.

“Ren…”

The man smirks. He brings their lips together with a deceptively light tug at Goro’s shirt. And Goro is obedient, drunk on blaze’s fumes and fanned want. Embers in his guts take hold, a heat that he should put out. For Ren’s sake.

“You’re so cute like this.” But Ren seems to bask in it, twists and reaches for his bag.

Goro’s eye widen. “Did you plan for this?”

He laughs, buries it against Goro’s shoulder and it makes his toes curl. He can see in the peripheral of his vision pale cheeks flushed red and redder.

“No, I actually have this for an embarrassing reason.” Ren pecks his Adam’s apple and throws the lube on the couch besides them. “But it's lucky, so hey! Don’t ask.”

“I’m asking. What is this? You can’t change someone’s opinion by- by-” Goro grits his teeth. His skin feels gross, it itches. “I never took you for that type of person.”

“C’mon, with how much I nag you to talk to a therapist?” Ren pulls at Goro’s shirt. “Maybe, I was planning on cheering myself up after getting rejected.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy.”

“Stop imagining weird things, I was just going to fuck myself.” Ren blushes bright, a frown in place as he smacks Goro’s forehead. There’s no strength behind the hit.

“Pardon?”

He goes unanswered. Ren lifts the hem of his shirt, doesn’t register his pliancy until his arms are up and his shirt discarded to the floor. But by then, Ren chooses to ignore him, placing all his focus on the newly revealed skin before him.

He swoops down, exploring it with hands that aim to just explore and a tongue that wants to simply taste.

Goro swallows the lump in his throat with a small noise as he delivers himself into Ren’s mouth. His left hand digs into the skin of Ren’s hips, fighting to stop his grinding and only coming out partially successful.

Ren moans, and Goro wonders if all attempts at depriving Ren of him will end with Ren’s pleasure. If so, he would never last, his arm loses strength and Ren begins grinding more desperately against him.

Neither will last.

“Ren,” he groans.

“Fuck, uh, yeah-” Ren raises to his knees above him. Goro feels like he is the one caught in prayer. Ren’s hands slide down his torso, tearing leaves and stems from where they travel, so that they may fall on his pants.

Goro’s fingers twitch. Somewhere in the back of his head he wonders if he’ll need to replace the couch cushion covers.

The thought dies, unpondered in the fog clouding his mind, as Ren pops the buttons of his jeans and the sound of his zipper going down rings in the apartment.

“Goro,” Ren calls out and the need to answer pierces Goro like a knife. He does with a nervous hum. “I need to know.”

He doesn’t clarify with words. Instead, he brings Goro’s hands, both of them gently removed from their hold, to the hem of his pants. That’s all the explanation he needs, his fingers curl reflexively around the fabric.

It then registers in his mind that his gloves went missing somewhere along the line, and he pulls his right hand away.

It’s too late anyway, the motion weighted the fabric down, his left hand pulling it down lower, and Ren kisses him with all his being.

Not even all the grace in the world can hold Ren upright as he struggles to rid himself of his pants, mouth stubbornly busy. Goro holds him up, purely instinctual and greedy before he can stop himself. Both hands registering his skin in such vastly different and undeserving ways, his head swims. He moans into Ren’s mouth, eats the sound echoed back to him with the elegance of a starving animal escaping a forest fire.

Ren doesn’t let him think hard on what he becomes in the heat of the moment, only allows him the luxury to feel and throws him and his senses into overdrive. Distantly there’s the susurrus of more fabric shuffling, of zippers and buttons and a ‘pop’ that Goro can’t bring himself to latch on nowhere near as hard as he latches onto Ren.

The sounds and words spoken against him blend and melt into a low high pitch growl as Ren buries his head in the crook of Goro’s neck.

He uses the opportunity to gulp in a breath. The air barely clears his head, his heart remains intoxicated at his throat and Ren breathes ruggedly against him. His body shudders against him and Goro’s right hand jumps away from Ren. It claws at the back of the couch, left hand searches blindly where his eye can’t see.

“Holy shit.”

Ren laughs in his awkward position. His arm is twisted back and Goro’s digits brush against the spot Ren’s own sink into his body. “I was hoping more for a ‘fuck’, if I were honest.”

“I-” Ren devours his mouth with a new kiss.

It's strange, Goro muses, how he feels the thrust of fingers not just between his own at Ren’s back but against his tongue. Ren's twitches and stops, moves in stuttering motions as his fingers curl and slide in and out. Goro doesn't know what to make of this being given to him so willingly when he isn't the one working for it.

It’s wrong, he has no idea how to make it right.

A word is muffled between them- his name- and the heat in his guts augments and spreads wild in his bloodstream. He punches the couch with his right arm just to do something with it, his left digs into the meat of Ren's rear, spreads him inadvertently, and he moans.

Ren laughs anew, breathless regardless of how much oxygen he stole from Goro's lungs. He is vaguely aware of Ren slipping out of himself, a needle of cold slippery fluid dripping onto Goro's thigh.

It's lube, his brain identifies without looking away from grey irises disappearing behind pupils blown wide. His lashes flutter.

He grabs Ren by the hair harsher than he means and wolfs down Ren's whimper gracelessly. His face angled so that Ren can mainly focus on its left side.

He feels a hand touch his right cheek. A moment later, the contact is echoed between his legs as his hardness is pulled out from the thin, ruined, cotton covering it.

“You look good like this.” Wet fingers circle him and pump. Ren's voice continues to drive him out of his mind and into a carnal, burning, mess. “All flushed and needy.” Ren huffs, it's a blow of air that rips the plants and their roots from the ground. They fall to the mercy of hot want. “I'm sure you’ll look better though.”

The hand between his legs moves faster, coats and readies him for Ren. Goro bares his teeth. Panting, he bites out, “You're an idiot.”

Ren retaliates by taking a bite of his own, right out of Goro’s flesh as he presses him to his entrance and sinks.

The sudden heat has Goro throwing his head back but it's the reflexive movements of the muscles engulfing him that holds him there.

“I was right,” Ren mutters against his clavicle, clearly affected.

“Hn.” Ren ondulates his hips again and it's too much. Goro's hand falls from dark clouds parading as curls onto Ren's shoulder, his burnt hand raises and latches onto the back of the couch like a lifeline.

If he could keep his eye open and focused, he'd try to spit something witty at Ren's face.

As it is, he can only groan as Ren starts moving up and down, fingers intertwining with scarred ones against the couch.

“Hey, help me out here,” Ren mutters. He pries his grip on the back off and brings the limb and its hold to clutch his hip. “I need a bit of support you know.”

“Use the other one.”

“Are you sure?” Ren hums a trap, but Goro finds it meaningless. He is caught already.

“Yes,” Goro hisses as he wraps his left around Ren. Growling something visceral when Ren doesn't let go of his other hand.

In fact, all Ren does is ride him more eagerly. His body dances above, around, him and a light smile pulls at the corner of his panting mouth.

Goro groans. He can tell when Ren feels him tensing beneath him. He squeezes his fingers and helps Ren ride him better out of pure need.

Ren gasps, a melodious tone akin to a chuckle and he switches his hold on the scarred hand, guiding it to his need, wrapping it around his girth and circling it all with his own hand. It feels wet, but Goro has no time to wonder when Ren slathered lube over himself.

“R-Ren-!”

Ren takes purchase on his shoulder with his free hand as he pumps to the rhythm of his hips. He pulls Goro into his dance, drives his hips to move out of need, gauche and aimless. But Ren doesn't care, he takes him in, takes himself and holds his hand in one same grip. Head thrown back, Ren’s throat is bared and cheeks flushed as black hair dampens and frames pallor flushed pink.

Goro's frontal cortex is completely shut down. Like a feral mess, his medulla and hindbrain process and dictate his actions- he finds his teeth sinking into Ren's pulse with a moan and a whine.

It’s a call of chaos. Or it’s something similar, and it hides in Ren’s voice.

Somehow, nothing seems to disturb the tempo of Ren's body, not even his own frantic, clumsy thrusting.

“There, there you go-” Goro whimpers again as Ren talks. He sounds pathetic, like a dog, and Ren keeps mumbling into his ears. The coil in his stomach is set ablaze and burns him inside out. He feels his body tensing further.

Savagely, clumsily, he asks Ren for more.

Ren gives it to him, and he doesn't last long.

Through the haze of grey smoke, he feels his right hand enveloped still by another, knuckles brushing against his stomach and twitching muscles overwhelming his too sensitive intimacy.

Bleary barely opened eye watches Ren frown, bottom lips worried between pretty teeth as groans escape his mouth.

The sight doesn't last long- just enough for Goro to squeeze the hardness in his hand and swipe a thumb over the head.

Ren gasps, startled, and topples.

His orgasm attempts to wring more out of Goro's spent cock uselessly. It's over sensitive, nerves electrified still in ways he doesn't know how to deal with.

He crushes Ren to his chest, to cope. The want in his gut seemingly gone up in flames, fallen to ashes as Ren catches his breath slowly on his skin.

Satiated, Ren hums against his heart.

Goro feels a pang and thin threads piercing his innards from within the dust once more.

Undeniably, Goro wants too much.

**Author's Note:**

> Bruh i just wanted Ren riding Akechi and it became this


End file.
